Beauty and the Beast
by antomato
Summary: Arthur was once a selfish Prince, now the hideous Beast. Will Isabella be able to tame him, and against all odds, can the animal-like Arthur gain her love? Uk/Fem!Spain
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is a Beauty and the Beast AU. Isabella (Fem!Spain) is cast as Belle, and Arthur (England) is the Beast. Yes, this is hetero. I apologize for my lack of detail and my seeming laziness with my writing. I hope you enjoy and reviews are appreciated. I hope to keep my muse for this story and what not. **

**Thank you for reading.**

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><p><em>Ounce upon a time, in a far away land, there was a Prince by the name of Arthur who lived in a marvelous, shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired, the royal man was selfish, greedy, and coldhearted to other beings. On an old winter's night, there was a beggar woman who's skin hung in drapes and her back was hunched over under a thick, hideous green cloak, came to the beautiful castle of the Prince Arthur. She offered him a single, crimson colored rose in return for shelter. The Prince was disgusted with her hideous appearance and a once, he turned her away, his face stony and cold as his finger pointed back out into the cold winds. The woman warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty was found within. A second time, he turned her away, moving to close the large, wooden doors of his castle. At once, the beggar woman had turned into a gorgeous and mighty enchantress. Arthur, seeing the transformation, tried to apologize, but she had seen the hatred and selfishness in his heart, and as punishment, she turned him into a hideous beast clad with thick claws, rugged fur, and horns of an ox. The curse was cast upon the entire castle, and all who lived there. Arthur, repulsed by his appearance, concealed himself within the castle and resided in it, not emerging from the dark depths. His only window to the outside world, was a magic mirror. The rose she had offered, was a wondrously enchanted rose, that would bloom until his twenty-first year. If he could learn to love another, and gain her love in return, the curse would be broken. If not, he'd be forced to remain a hideous beast for all time. As the years trudged on, his hope dwindled, for who could ever learn to love a beast?<em>

Isabella emerged from the home with the sun shining brightly on the house. Her dress was hanging loosely around her, the ends gently brushing her ankles and the deep red color complimenting her skin so very well. A smile was painted upon her rosy lips, a basket hanging from her arm as she gracefully stepped down the cobble stone steps and made her way to the village. She swung her arms gently, the basket rocking back and forth as she slowly brought them around, her delicate fingers clasping the woven handle in front of her. Oh, the town she lived in was such a small place. Quiet, peaceful, the scenery giving the area such a beautiful appeal. But Isabella craved more. She craved adventures, and her curious nature was only heightened by the books she read.

The days were so ordinary, the same every morning. The people hurried on with his tray of bread on, people greeting each other and so on. The were soft whispers following the woman. Murmurs of how 'strange' she was for a normal woman, but oh, she was the most beautiful woman in the village. Isabella was bored of her everyday life. The village was the same, the people were the same. She wanted more, more. A soft sigh left her as she began to hum, the same path she walked to her favorite book shop. Something that could always give her imagination a wild run: books. Reading was a past time she adored, the tales of fantasy that bewildered her; oh, she loved walked on, her smile on her lips and her long, curly hair tied up into a delicate bun. The curls on her neck gently licked the skin, rolling out at the base of her neck. A white apron over her deep red dress, the colors contrasting greatly, but it gave her a beautiful attraction. A soft ting of a bell rung, the sound so familiar to her. Her eyes were greeted with books adorning the walls and shelves. Of every thickness, color, and size. The wonders within them amazed Isabella, and she couldn't wait to explore each word of every page.

"Oh, back already?" the book keeper chuckled softly as he recognized the young woman who's entered his shop a million times. He strode casually out from behind his counter, adjusting his glasses with the same smile still light on his face.

"Oh, yes! I've already finished it!" she smiled, taking the book from her basket and giving it to the elderly man.

"Have you gotten anything new?" she asked eagerly, her face bright with excitement as she turned with eager gestures to the books. He fingers flitted over the spines, reading over the titles and swinging to the other side of the wooden ladder.

The man chuckled and smiled brightly to Isabella. "Ah, I am sorry to say I haven't, dear." he chuckled, watching the young woman with amusement sparkling in his old, oak colored eyes.

"Oh, I think I'll borrow this one!" followed his voice, the Spanish woman turning back to the man with a navy blue colored book clutched in her fingers.

"That one? But you've read it so many times, Isabella." the book keeper looked at the book he recognized, a bit surprised by her choice. Ah, but he shouldn't? she's read it a few times before and it obviously gave her great enjoyment.

"Of course, it's my favorite!" Isabella smiled brightly to her, her eyes bright with happiness as she held it close to her chest. "The marvelous adventures! Sword fights, dragons, a handsome prince!" she babbled on, turning her eyes back to him, the smile still obviously dressed on her tanned cheeks.

"Oh, well, it's yours then." he smiled, patting the book and returning back to his counter.

"But sir-" she protested, her smile melting into a delicate, surprised expression. With a bright grin growing back again, she gave the old man a hug and gently took the book, opening it's spine as her eyes trailed over the familiar words and walking out of the shop with her nose already stuffed into the mess of words. Isabella hurried on over the steps, strange looks being passed to her. Oh, she was considered the strangest one in the village, excluding her inventor of a father. She was indeed beautiful, but for a woman to read and be intelligent was unheard of. Still, Isabella was a smart woman and she enjoyed a good book, priding herself in her knowledge. Even though she was considered strange, her face was a very nice thing to see, and many agreed. Ignoring the bustle and dodging people here and there, the Spaniard began her walk back home, the book clutched in her fingers and olive colored eyes trained on the far behind, a blonde haired man with glowing, sky blue eyes looked at the Spanish woman. His lips curved into a smirk and he let his rifle fall back on his shoulder. As his eyes studied the woman, a young, teenaged boy was hurrying near by to catch the recently shot duck. Clumsily, he missed the animal as it fell to the streets, but Alfred stuffed the dead animal into the sack and hurried back to Mathias. When he returned, Mathias gave him a smile and his strong hands ruffled his combed hair, earning a laugh from the confident teen.

"Haha, that was great Mathias! You didn't miss any of 'em, you're the greatest hunter ever!" Alfred complimented the strong Dane, laughing as he tossed the bag over his shoulder, the blonde's ego only rising with the compliments.

"Oh, I know, I know." he chuckled, his voice calm and cool as he turned, the younger following behind him. "Oh, and I deserve the very best, isn't that right Alfred?" he gave a cocky smirk in response, casually making his way up to a particular red dressed woman in long strides. "Yes, sir, you do!" replied Alfred, walking in quick steps to keep up with the taller, muscular man. "And that's why I'm going to marry her, Isabella." Mathias gestured to the Spanish woman, determination adorning his face. Oh course, she would be the perfect wife. He, the strong hunter Mathias, deserved the very best and deserved what he wanted, and his sight was set on miss Isabella. Because of course, she was the most beautiful, and therefore the best.

Mathias ignored any other words that came from the teen's mouth, and he quickly checked his combed hair that rose in curved spikes. In a hanging, newly cleaned pan at the bakery. A bit on the weird side itself, but it was the style that he preferred and the Danish man made sure he looked as stunning as he had grown to think. With a content expression and a firm nod, he turned back to see the woman still walking and lazily dropped his rifle into the hands of the blonde teen, Alfred. He hurried on in long strides filled with confidence, making his way through the busy, late morning crowd. His blue eyes stayed trained on her until he emerged from the back of a wagon and out of the bumbling villagers. The market, this time of day, was always busy and he found it difficult to keep up with the woman. She dodged people as if it were nothing, while Mathias craned his neck over the heads of villagers to follow the Spanish woman clad in a simple, red her leaving the out skirts of the market, Mathias searched for a way to catch up with her. Quickly, his gloved hands clasped the edge of a roof, and he hoisted himself up, climbing with ease over the tiles and plopping down, away from the mess of people. He made his way to the woman, his lips curling into a grin as he was but a few feet away now. With ease, he strode in front of her, giving her a smile as her eyes rose to meet her own. Now, in front of her, he took a gentle bow, his smile on his face and her brow quirked just slightly. "Oh, good morning Isabella." he cooed to her, plucking the book from her fingers, causing the woman's brow to furrow. He flipped through the pages, his expression a bit displeased at the pages filled with words and not a single picture adorning them.

"Mathias, I would like my book back." All she gained in returned was a chuckle, his hands still turning each page as he turned it, as if trying to understand and he obviously did not. With a careless shrug, his fingers let go of the pages and he tossed it aside. A soft splash followed, the blue cover now soaked with dirtied water from landing carelessly on the ground thanks to the Dane.

"It's such a waste for a woman to read, you know. You ought to spend your time paying attention to more important things," as Isabella stooped to pick up her book from the dirtied ground, Mathias' boots stood in reach of her hands " like me." as soon as she heard the arrogant words, she looked up at the proud man with a light frown crossing her face, then reached around to pick her favorite book up. She found the arrogant words more of an annoyance than anything, finally pulling the dampened book from the ground and leaning back, away from , she wiped the pages wit her apron that adorned her crimson colored dress, ignoring the likes of the Dane standing before her.

"You know, how about I show you to the tavern, give you a little tour of my trophies, hm?" he smiled down at her a laid a hand on her waist as she rose, finally cleaning the dirty water away from the pages and cover. Delicately, she moved out of his grip and kept a distance from him, obviously not wanting to take part in the offer."I'd rather not." she replied with a flat voice.

"I am going home to help my father now, goodbye." with that she turned away to the bridge that crossed a river, leading to a cozy house on a hill up above.

Without warning, a loud bang and explosion of smoke rose from the cellar of the house and coiled up like a snake that slowly faded in the sky. Isabella immediately picking up the ends of her simple dress and she took off towards the house, worried for the safety of her father, Romulus, the laughing of Mathias and Alfred following her. The Spaniard ignored the ignorant displayed and rushed over the small rise of a bridge and up the dirt path to her home and hurried to the side of the house, opening the doors of a cellar to have a gust of dirty smoke hit her in the face. She gave a thick couch, opening one deep, green orb to peer into the room below, searching for her father in the slowly faded, tan colored smoke.

"Papa?" her voice echoed, slipping down the set of wooden steps to see if her father was alright. She looked around the now faded smoke, spotting her father towards the corner of the house and giving a weak smile and glad she could she could he was alright.

A spray of curses cam from the throat of an elderly man, rubbing his head and standing up from the stoned ground below him. He ran a rough hand over his curled hair, his voice thick with annoyance while his face was scrunched into an angered look. His fists curled into balls, he gave a kick to the contraption he was working on, spouting out something else only to look and see a giggling Isabella before himself. His anger faded a bit, but only a bit, at the sight of her for he was still frustrated with his invention he was determined to make work for the fair that would be coming soon.

"Oh, I'm about to give up on this thing." he snapped at the complicated invention, only earning another muffled giggled from Isabella. She sat her basket down on a near by chair and came to stand beside her Father, dusting off his face. He blinked as her fingers gently brushed the dirt away from his handsome, but aged face, and the soft fuzz on his chin tickling her fingers.

"You always say that." she smiled to him, Romulus' a cheek a pat and taking a step back as he started to move away and look about the cluttered room.

"I mean it this time! I can't get the dumb thing to work." he muttered crossly, turning to the machine and picking up a few tools. He slid under it on a board supported by wheels, his goggles clamed to his face as he stretched an arm out, groping around for something else. Once he'd found, he slid his arm back underneath, and the sounds of metal clapping metal and other various noises followed, his daughter only smiling affectionately at the man below. As he slid out, he mumbled something else, but it went unheard, and he shuffled up again, dusting off his hands and tossing the head piece aside again, then turned his determined eyes to the invention.

"There, now let's give it another go." with that, he started the machine up, a loud clamor of noises coming after. He tucked his head back, covering his ears in anticipation of a boom of an explosion to come. Isabella did the same, tucking her head down with her hands clamed to the side of her head and her eyelids closed tightly encase there was another malfunction with the machine.

Oh, but the explosion or sounds of disaster never did come. The sounds of steam and pumping were heard, along with the tinkering of wood and metal coming together. As they progressed, a loud thud was the result and an axe slammed down onto a waiting log, half of it flying off and landing on a pile of stacked and chopped fire wood. A large smile came onto her father's face in response, and he felt his confidence take a rise as he achieved success and Romulus turned, giving Isabella a large hug and a soft kiss to her temple. A gentle laugh came from her throat, patting the man's back as the sound of wood falling neatly onto a stack and the machine filled the cellar. She beamed to him, his excitement etched into his face as he turned to see it working, and a cut log came flying onto the stack that was made in the cellar.

"It's off to the fair with me!" he exclaimed, rushing to grab his wagon and the trusty horse they kept with their small group of animals. Isabella laughed at him and his eagerness, glad he'd achieved his goal and his invention was working. Her father was a genius after all, and she was happy to see him stride out from the cellar to the stables.

By that night, Isabella's father had gathered up the horse and loaded his wood cutting machine onto a wagon, protecting it with a hood type covering. He pulled a long clock over his shoulders, a lantern strapped to his wagon and a map in head as he settled onto the bench in the front. Isabella smiled up to him as she watched him clamor on, her Father leaning down and his daughter giving him a kiss on the cheek. He, too, smiled at her and pressed his lips to her forehead and sat up, tightly grabbing his reigns and adjusting them with a proud and eager smile adorning his peach fuzzed face. She watched him ready the rained, pushing his hat onto of his head, while she slowly stepped back from the wagon.

"Be careful, Papa." she called to him, tossing her hand into the air and waving as he bounced away. Silently, he waved back to her, his face showcasing a grin as Romulus began to ride away from his home towards the fair. Hopefully, his map would keep him safe and keep him from getting lost out in the wilderness. After all, he had to win first prize at the fair, and become a world famous inventor! At least, that was what he was hoping and he was determined to make his precious Isabella proud.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow... this took forever. I'm sorry... I get distracted easily. **  
><strong>I'll try to keep this one alive. I've been very busy lately.<strong>

**I hope you enjoy and what not.**  
><strong>There's not much in this chapter. Just introductions of who is cast as the furniture and what not and Arthur's first appearance.<strong>

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><p>The slightly elderly man bounced along in his stout wagon, eyes fixed forcefully on a tattered map that he held in his possession. His round, rough fingers brought it close to his chocolate colored eyes. His lantern was clutched in the other hand, holding it above his head as Romulus turned his head up and examined the scene before him., and to his disbelief, it looked nothing like he had thought. He turned his eyes to the map again, quirking a brow in confusion as he studied the path.<p>

"Did I take a wrong turn… ?" he murmured, voice soft and a roll of soft fog coming off his lips as the cold air caught his warm breath, turning it to white, fading smoke. A shudder ran down his spine, hands lowering and taking hold of the thick, black leather reigns and the old man hunched over to keep the cold air away from his body.

The great, Belgian horse trotted on warily in front of him, and he glanced at the yellow tinted paper then with an affirmative nod, he jerked the reigns to the right and the horse gave a rumbling snort. A huff followed from the animal and he urged it on, slowly, very slowly, the horse went on and it's head began to slide lower. It's long, tan colored ears fell flat, hooves clapping low against the ground as the trees turned to long, darkened branches that screwed up toward the grey sky. It was intimidating, to say the least. The cold air grew tense, a soft fog slowly creeping around the man and the cautious horse as the ventured on. The trees became cursed, thin black branches that tightened and stretches in pointed directions, the leaves long gone from their dead bases. The great, large horse was uneasy and unsure, a soft whiny coming from his mouth but Romulus ignored the soft plea (or was it a warning?) to turn back.

Out of no where, came a sharp howl that pierced the luminous, dirty clouds and made the nervous animal jump and totter back in surprise. The piercing noise was followed by a dark, chaotic chorus of snapping and barks from scrawny, dark furred wolves. They cam leaping from behind the skinny trees, similar to the deceased plants in structure actually, and they prowled around Romulus and the Belgian horse. In a crazed panic, the horse began to hurry back and the savage wolves made their move, leaping forward simultaneously. Each blackened and dark grey starved wolf snapped at the horse, but it took off like a blinded storm and thundered forward. Romulus gave a scream and clung to his wagon, the reigns pulled back tightly in one hand as Philippe stormed onward in animalized panic probed by instinct.

Philippe stormed forward, the starved wolves snapping and yapping their pearled white teeth, stamping their feet against the ground as they chased the large horse. Philippe's large, beady black eyes darted to and fro in panic, meanwhile Romulus was trying his best to simply stay in the seat of the wagon. Everything was a loud clatter of chaos, and the elderly man had not room to act in the storm of chaos. Before he knew it, dirty crumbling clumps of dirt and dust came hurtling from under the horse's feet as they neared the end of a clump of twisted, dark colored trees. As Romulus processed the scene and made sense of the decrease in activity, he tightened his fists around the reigns, but the savage wolves had thundered around the frightened animal once again.

In heightened fear and panic, the horse raged onward and in it's reared position, the cart was jostled so terribly Romulus slipped from it's wooden seat and fell with a hard shock through his body onto the cold, hard soil below him. A great loud grunt escaped his dried lips and a clatter of glass smashing roughly against the ground made the man open his eyes wide in panic and confusion. As he saw the horse collapse downward and shoot forward, he stared in disbelief and he shuffled to get up in a rather clumsy manner. His rough hands scrapped the blistering hot glass, making him yelp in short tinge of pain, and he found himself suddenly alone in the panic of the wilderness with a bleeding palm and confusion etched into his deep, brown eyes. The starving beasts gave him no mercy though, and lingering ones came leering around the dead trunks of the once lush trees, and the old man took no chance. In his youth he had been immensely fit and still retained his stamina and strength in his later years, and he bolted forward with feet pounding against the icey ground. The dogs were not ones to give up easily- And he found himself staring and looking anywhere, everywhere, for an escape as if he were a wild animal as well.

But that was it, he was looking for survival from the beast like captors that would surely ensnare him in death's painful grasp. He made a sharp curve and there was but a few wolves left chasing Romulus. His darkly colored eyes caught a flash of cast iron bars reaching to form tall gates that curved into once elegant designs upon them. Not even thinking twice, he hurtled toward them as he panted harshly, breath wheezing out of his lungs in tight gulps to full his body. His strong, brawny arms stretched out for the bars and his fingers clutched them, shaking them violent as he yelled for help- salvation of some sort. The bars gave way to his force and he stumbled heavily onto the cold cobblestone. Romulus rolled onto his back and he stared at the approaching fangs of the wolves and his feet shoved the gate closed again, resulting in painful yaps of the animals smacking against the metal in surprise.

Rain was pattering down onto the surfaces below and a harsh clap of thunder with it's brother, lightning, shown in the grey sky and Romulus winced at the sounds. In hopes of keeping out of nature's death hold, he ventured on with his shawl tightly clasped around his shoulders, though his straw hat was indeed gone from his thickly curled hair. The raindrops were not kind to him and relentlessly came pouring down on his shoulders. As he came to the large, tall oak doors he looks up at the intricate carving, taking a moment to admire the work that had been put into the wooden structures. With a strained sigh, he took a deep breath and pushed the doors open, peering inside the dark, seemingly empty castle.

Obviously, the structure was once a magnificent gleam and glory to it's walls and architecture- Being a man of science and the arts, Romulus could see that. His chocolate colored orbs, now filled with a timid curious gleam, ventured into the old structure. He kept quiet, peeking all around and studying the towering walls and tattered paintings and tapestries. With curiosity now filling his lost thoughts of fear, ventured to where he heard soft murmuring and his eyebrow cocked up in confusion.

"Hello… is- is anyone there?" he called, stretching his cold, wet neck out and looking around. No one! Absolutely no one… It was so strange. He swore he heard something..

And there it was again, hushed whisperings.

"Don't say anyd'ing." game a low hiss from an old fashioned clock. It appeared to be a normal object, at first. But was anything but. Before the mind could understand or process the fact that the usually inanimate object was actually animate, eyes began to peek open and swerved over to a golden candle bra beside him.

Meanwhile, Romulus, now shivering and the stress from running catching up, rubbed his arms and tottered around in open area. "I don't mean to intrude… " he called openly, to anyone that was listening really, "I j-just need a place to stay for the n-night… "

"Oh come now Ludwig.. " came the low voice of the obvious French accented candle bra.

Immediately the clock's arms of sorts was clamped around the mouth that came from the golden candle bra's mouth, and his eyes showed a somewhat crease in annoyance at the motion. He gave a light roll of his orbs, bringing forth an extension that held a burning candle forth. A fire lit itself ablaze on the would-be hand of Ludwig, and before anything could be done. A series of 'ow!'s came forth from his mouth and pierced the silent air. With an air of confidence and a cocky smirk spreading over his lips, the French candle bra let his voice boom forth with a warm, friendly extension to the roaming stranger.

"Of course! You are welcome 'ere wit' us." came his voice, mildly deep and thickly coated with his accent.

"Who said that?" came the accusing voice of the elderly man, snatching up the blazing candle holder without any other care or notice of what it was. Carefully his looked around, curious and dazed as he searched for the seemingly close sound of a human voice.

"Here!"

Again, Romulus spun around, but nothing! Had he finally gone mad? Then suddenly a harsh clump on the head with metal came and a frown crossed his lips and eyebrows sunk as he looked up to see a smile and a face etched onto the object. His eyes widened in dismay and disbelief as he stared in wonder at the object, for a moment he though it were simply a design. A bizarre one, but a design. But oh he was so terribly wrong.

"Bonjour." the candle bra greeted, a smile flashing up his metal lips and instantly the man tumbled back, releasing the gold piece from his grasp. A gasp came forth from his throat and he found himself toppled down onto the smooth floors below. As he watched the it move and get up- on it's own!- he became amazed with the structure then before he knew it the clock came plopping down onto the floor as well.

"Ach, now you've done it!" he snapped in a cold, German accented voice, his face obviously scrunched up in annoyance.

Without consideration for the disagreement between the clock and candle bra, Romulus plucked the clock from the floor and began turning it in his grasp all around. With his eyes narrowed into concentrated slits, he studied the apparent normal object and he found nothing to indicate how this was done! He began prodding the legs of it, earning sharp snaps of anger from Ludwig he stopped with that little observation. Next, Romulus gave it a series of shakes, listening to the clatter of gears and clanking within. Nothing out of the ordinary… He turned it up again, looking at it's face then began pushing the two, skinny black clock hands and in turn the clock gave a sharp yell and stopped the man from prodding anymore.

"Stop d'at!" he snapped cruelly as he shoved the large, cold fingers away, a formidable glowering glare now on the face of clock.

A laugh of amusement came from his dry throat, moving to put the clock back on the smooth surface of the table he was once on, but a harsh, hitching sneeze burst from Romulus unexpectedly. In disgust, Ludwig grimaced at the disgusting display and quickly managed to escape the human's hold.

"Ah, 'e's z'ick!" exclaimed Francis, and ignoring the many muttered protests of the clock, "Come, you must zi't by z'e fire." he urged on, hopping along as Ludwig gave many protests against the action. It was unheard and ignored, and Francis brought the soaked, sick man to a warm, secluded spot by a gently rolling fire that held a rightly colored flame. It looked lovely, to but it simply. Very welcoming… A yapping was heard that resembled that of a dog, as a footstool came blundering into the happily lit room. A smile crept onto the man's lips as he slipped into a table, velvet red chair that was soft as a cloud, if he had to say so himself. A groan of protest was heard from the clock, and he rolled his eyes as he tottered down the low steps to the fire lit section.

"Nein, nein! Not there." he hissed, trying to usher them out of the "master's" chair.

The protests from Ludwig went ignored as bustle began to come alive for the lot. The dog-like foot stool rooted it's way under the man's feet and he gave a hearty laugh in return, suddenly feeling so welcomed and content within the old castle walls. As life came into the fire lit room, everything seemed so warm and suddenly a rich, green cloth was laid onto Romulus' shoulders, and it was wrapped around his cold body neatly. He gave a bright smile in return, eyes peering up to see a black coat racket letting go of the blanket that warmed his upper body. Just as the German clock was about to snap open his jaw and demand the actions cease at once, a cart came rolling in with a swift speed but not a drop of tea was shed onto the carpets.

Upon the wooden, rolling structure sat a round tea pot with a bright smile on her face. She seemed so very friendly, and her smile slipped from cheek to cheek as she came to the armchair of the older man. Her pot was white, of course, with soft blue lids and a beautifully decorated baby blue base.

"Oh, would you care for some fresh tea? It would be lovely for that cold you have… "

As soon as the words left her lips, a yell came from the roughed up clock. "Katyusha, no tea!" he called to her, but the order went unheard and the blue and white pot let the warm beverage slip into a small cup. Romulus picked up the small cup, a wide grin on his face as he pulled it to his lips only to be met with a giggle coming from the young teacup. The Ukrainian made pot gave a soft scolding to the teacup, whom she called Ivan, and the teacup was set down again on the wooden surface, Romulus chuckling softly to himself as it bounded back to the pot. As soon as the tea cup was let down, the doors to the warm room shot open with a raging force. A wind swept after them and suddenly the blazing, homey feeling fire was silenced in the fireplace and the cold air took over. The fire from Francis' candles died and the clock stood pressed to the wall, while the teapot was silently clamoring on the wood cart. A menacing shadow and rough growl rumbled in the now terror filled room. The man stole a glance at the shadow, and it stoop prowling with thick fur that covered it's body, horns piercing upward and twisting into menacing shapes. Fangs accompanied him, and a long tailed that slid back and forth like a predator hunting down it's prey in the wilderness.

The candle bra went to try and explain to this apparent beast, no monster, something about how Romulus was there. He felt nothing but glued to his seat, not knowing weather to attempt an escape or pray from some sort of relief or help to his now new doom. Only a rage filled roar came from it's fang filled mouth, and the furniture objects immediately silenced. Romulus peeked over his shoulder, only to find breath smacking his face and a monstrous stare in his face. A yell escaped him and he fell back out of the chair, trying to distance himself from the beast.

"_What are you doing here? Who are you? Why did you come here?_" he snapped in a harsh, thick voice with bright, acidic green eyes glaring daggers into Romulus. The man tried to open his mouth, but the menacing jaws slipped open again with a loud thunder of "_You are not welcome here_!" and the man could only manage an apology, hidden behind terrified eyes and shuffling feet.

"_Oh, have you come to see the beast?_" he voice stormed, fury etched into his scrunched up face.

"Please- I beg you! I simply wanted a place to stay!" was his only protest, then large paws scooped him up from the ground without an effort. He held Romulus up like a rag doll, his fangs bared in a horrific glare of anger and he rose to his hind legs, carrying a more terrifying height with him now.

"_A place to stay? Fine! I'll give you one!_" he snapped, and with that many pleas and prayers of mercy and begging to be let go came vainly from the man's throat, but they touched deaf ears. The doors were slammed shut, the protests drowning out in the now empty room and the castle once again was scarily empty and silent…


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Wow wow wow. I'm so sorry guys, I've had a writer's block with this story. I'm soooo sorry ;;  
>I've been trying to take other's suggestions and take my own spin on the story, so I've been brainstorming and toying with it. I do have a few small ideas as of right now, but I'm still not sure what I want to do with the plot. I can't guarantee when the next update will be. So far, in the chapter, the biggest difference if Arthur's appearance as the Beast and some other small things.<strong>

**Anyway! Thanks so much! I do really hope I do well with this AU fic, because I want it to be great. I've just had bad writer's block, sorry ;; **

**On another note I'm out of school now! More time to write. And if you guys have plot requests for SpUK drabbles, let me know. I need something to get me out of this writer's block funk. Anyway, reviews are loved, and thanks again for waiting!**

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><p>Simply horror struck, that's what Romulus was.<p>

His heart was bounding like horse's hooves against cold ground as he struggled against the vice grip and began yelling rather colorful cruses to the shaggy haired demon-like creature. It's eyes were a staggering green, like hot acid that could melt the very pores of skin. The claw were hard and thick, like iron-cased thorns on the beast's hands. His paws were massive- the size of great bowls that a maiden would normally place fruit in. There horn spiraling off his head in curls, much like a ram or a sheep. The tips were somewhat blunt, but the ridges and huge thickness of the grotesque decoration atop his head was enough to make even the bravest of bulls thick twice. His fur was a sandy gold color, falling over his his body to create a heavy coat of gold on it, giving the animal-man a hint of obscure beauty to it, but when he's dragging you up stairs and your limbs are pounding against the stone that detail goes without a notice.

The elderly man struggling to ground his nails into it's flesh, screaming and kicking his legs in a rabid panic, only resulting in bruising his own body. The beast was not phased by the act of protest, swiftly dragging the struggling man away towards a darkened room, a wood door slamming open to silence Romulus' cries and cease his thrashing. With wide, chocolate colored orbs he stared into the iron bared cells that aligned the room and he gave another attempt to scrap his way out of the other's grasp, which only resulted in a petrifying snarl. At once, the sickened man's body was practically thrown into a caged room, thick heavy black bars slamming shut with a clattering bang.

"Do enjoy your stay." the creature hissed, it's mouth spreading to resemble a smirk like facial expression, though it was hard to tell in such a deafeningly dark room and only the beast's fangs adorned the skin of his lips.

Before the old man could much less scream or call out for aid, the beast was gone and Romulus sunk down shocked and in horrid defeat of what had occurred in just the elapse of a few minutes. Defeat, he leaned against the cold wall and pressed his dirty palms to his forehead, murmuring prayers to the God above that the old man held faith in. He whispered apologies and let his defensive nature crumble, becoming nothing more than the sick, weak old man in a cage and certainly doomed to die alone in the hell prison.

-o-

Isabella hummed briskly as she began to slice the sweet fruit into slices, pushing them rather gently onto a plate as she strode back into the living room. She laid the glass plate down, turning to the counter behind her to grasp her book and to gather spare notes she kept in a satchel bag. Her father was not the only one with an intelligent mind. As she pushed a slice of an apple against her rosy she lips, the woman chewed on it weakly, scribbling down ideas she'd briefly inquired that ever so boring morning. It was horrid, really, the Spanish woman had horribly wished she'd gone with her relative to the fair- it would have been much more fulfilling than sitting alone in the quiet home. Weakly frustrated with her predicament, she decided to take a walk to clear her mind, perhaps gather a fresh batch of flowers for the table.

A low rum rose from her throat, as the Spaniard finished her plate of sweet snacks and hurried to the hanging rack and grabbed her dashingly bright red shawl. A light smile began to play on her lips as she let it drape over her shoulders, humming a cheerful tune as the woman happily slipped out the cottage house door and lightly stepped down the stony steps. Isabella was rather content, her arms folded as she noted the bright flowers adorning the path from the creek to the cottage steps. It was a beautiful warm day, and the young lady quite liked warm cheery weather as such. Oh, but good things never last, do they?

Quite suddenly, Felipe came thundered out of the woods, rushing to the house and nearly trampled Isabella in it's panicked frenzy. Startled and nearly blown over, the brunette stared for a moment before gathering her thoughts and rushing after to horse while holding her cherry red dress in her palms and her shawl nearly falling off her slim shoulders. The woman yelled to the horse, the animal slowly stopping and sliding into the stables near the house. Isabella ran to it's aid, her feet pattering to a stop as she stood before the panting horse and began to stroke it's nose comfortingly. The Spaniard murmured soft words to the animal though she was more than curious as to why Felipe was back and not with her dear father. Glancing behind the pale brown horse, she noted the moved saddle, her brow furrowing as the horse was now calming down and it's heaving sides down to just gentle rises and falls.

"Felipe, where is Papa?" she asked the animal, knowing should would not receive an answer, really. With gentle hands she coaxed the animal out of it's safe haven and the woman's slender fingers easily began to fix the straps on the saddle, straitening it and tightening it before hauling herself up and over with one graceful jump. With a grunt, she landed atop it's back, adjusting herself and moving her legs so she road better on Felipe. With that, Isabella nudged her heals against the horse's sides, the animal making a whiny-like noise and beginning to trot off with a bouncing Spanish woman on it's back.

Yes! This was her chance! She'd met father and help him with his cart, making sure Felipe was no longer startled by anything else (he was a rather timid horse anyway, or so Isabella though), and she'd have the chance to get out and see something new- like a little adventure. Giddy with her plan, the Spaniard hurriedly urged the hesitant horse on, hoping to find her father quickly.


End file.
